


Murder on the Outside Express

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, This Time Round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a night out you'll always remember. Take a luxurious steam train ride and solve a brutal murder in the utmost comfort. Dinner included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a fairly typical day in This Time Round.

"There we go," Mel said, slotting the latest crop of coloured cards into the scheduling board. "That just leaves the fanfics. Rose, these are yours for the next couple of days" — she dropped a hefty stack of fanfold paper on Rose's table — "and I've highlighted the ones where you get to bear the Doctor's child. Master, these are yours, and I've highlighted—"

"Yeah, yeah, I can guess," the Simm Master scowled. He glanced down the list, nearly every line of which was marked in one of four different colours. "Where do these people get their ideas?"

"From the televised series?" Rose suggested innocently.

Fortunately at this point an interruption presented itself, in the slight and cheerful form of Jo.

"Evening, Polly," she called over her shoulder as she breezed in.

Michelle smirked triumphantly, as she always did when people didn't realise who she really was. Jo didn't notice, being far too busy brandishing a glossy leaflet at the assembled patrons.

"I picked this up at the library," she said. "'For a night out you'll always remember.'"

"Chance'd be a fine thing," Donna said bitterly.

"'Take a luxurious steam train ride and solve a brutal murder in the utmost comfort. Dinner included.'"

"A Murder Mystery evening?" Martha asked. "Let's have a look."

"That's what it says here." Jo handed her the leaflet.

"Yeah... but it doesn't say much _else_ , does it?"

"Of course not. It's a mystery."

"Do not go," Katarina said. "We have seen leaflets advertising such events before, and they have always brought nothing but chaos and disaster upon all who attended."

As usual in the Round, her prophecy of doom was given not the slightest attention.

"Applications by post," Ace read. "Tickets will be issued with further instructions."

"Simple enough," Nyssa said. "But the most important point: Is this connected, in any way, shape or form, with the Tod brothers?"

Various heads bent over the small print.

"Nope. Corrigan Entertainments."

"Never heard of them. Is that a good sign, or a bad sign?"

"It does not matter," Leela said. "Whether these 'Corrigan Entertainments' are friends, known foes or unknown foes, I do not fear them. I shall face them and defeat them."

"Anyone else up for it?" Vicki asked.

A small crowd began to gather around the table.

\- * -

It was already dark and foggy by the time the various participants reached the station. The train stood waiting: its locomotive a 1930s streamliner glistening in silver and grey, the carriages painted chocolate and cream, each bearing a name and number picked out in gold. The steam from the locomotive further added to the atmosphere and reduced visibility.

Tegan, looking over the assembled party, was favourably impressed. Perhaps it was down to the influence of the Eliott sisters, but everyone — even Leela — seemed to have made an effort to don smart evening wear. The results were not, however, uniformly successful. Adric could make even a dinner jacket look scruffy, Zoë's idea of a cocktail dress might have been little and black but was still unashamedly a catsuit, and Sara Kingdom's elegant ballgown was somewhat spoiled by the bulky utility belt and holster she was wearing over it.

"Carriage one, now boarding," crackled the tannoy. "Will all passengers for carriage one please join the train."

Tegan glanced down at her ticket. It now bore a glowing numeral 1, which it certainly hadn't before. She made her way forward and climbed aboard, finding herself in a wood-panelled vestibule. A man in velveteen uniform took her ticket.

"Welcome aboard," he said. "Please wait in the dining saloon until the other passengers arrive."

Tegan followed the direction he indicated, to find herself in a luxuriously- appointed dining area. A smiling steward directed her to a table set for four.

"Posh, innit?" Rose sat down beside her. "They must make a bit to be able to afford this. Did you see who else is with us?"

"Perhaps there isn't anyone else," Tegan said.

"Just the two of us, girl detectives?"

"Tyler and Jovanka? Sounds like a builder's merchants."

Before Rose could reply, Sara joined the group.

"They wouldn't let me keep my gun," she grumbled.

"Pity. I'd feel safer knowing one of us was armed and knew how to use it," Tegan said dourly.

Rose looked at the tense faces of her fellow-travellers. "Don't be such a misery. It's just a night out. What can go wrong?"

Tegan took a deep breath. But before she could launch into what would surely have been an extensive catalogue, the fourth member of the party arrived.

"So that's Jovanka, Kingdom, Shaw and Tyler," Rose said. "I don't think it sounds like a builder's merchant any more. More an expensive law firm."

"Expensive is the word," said Liz, running her hand over the veneered surface of the table. "I think that's it for this coach. They closed the door behind me."

"Presumably we're in teams, then," said Sara. "Each coach against the others. I wonder how the scoring system works?"

*

Outside, on the platform, Jamie was engaged in heated argument with Zoë.

"Look," he said. "Why can't you come in with me?"

"Because your ticket says coach 2, Jamie, and mine doesn't."

"Can ye no' swap wi' someone else?"

"It doesn't work. Look, I'll show you. Jo, can I change tickets with you?"

Jo obligingly held out her ticket. Zoë took it, and at once it stopped glowing. The ticket she gave Jo in return lit up the moment Jo took it.

"Now, stop fussing, Jamie. I'm sure Martha and Jo and Ace will look after you."

"Aye, but you're cleverer than any of them."

Zoë nodded.

"Of course I am. But you'll have to make the best of it. Good luck, Jamie, and may the best team win."

"Good luck." Jamie reluctantly set out for the train, then turned and called back. "And try not tae go all zany this time!"

*

As Harry, Leela, Zoë and Vicki climbed aboard the train, the four remaining people on the platform looked at each other and realised the horrid truth.

"Swamprat!"

"Psycho!"

"If you think I'm getting into a train with you two weirdoes," Peri said, "you've got another think coming, I can tell you."

"But she's..."

"But he's..."

"Quiet." Barbara was using her authoritative schoolmarm voice. "Now, before you start bickering again, did either of you have the foresight to read the rules for the evening? All the way through?"

"I was busy," Adric said sulkily. "Dying of a surfeit."

"And no doubt, Nyssa, you were the one force-feeding him? Very well. Look at rule 49."

There was a short pause.

"But that..." Nyssa spluttered. "It's outrageous!"

"Seems sensible to me," said Peri. "No murders except the one we have to solve. After all, it'd be cheating otherwise."

Nyssa gritted her teeth.

"So I've got to sit opposite... him... all evening and not kill him at all. Why did I ever sign up to this?" She glared at Adric. "Why did _you_ ever sign up to this?"

"As it happens," Adric said, "I didn't. I got the ticket in the post."

"So did I. What's going on?"

*

From their vantage point in the ADF's headquarters truck, Wesley and Lucas peered at a monitor. The grainy image on the screen had originated in one of the station's own security cameras and had made its way to them by means of an unofficial tap into its circuit, the work of ADF technicians. Most CCTV systems in Nameless had undergone this treatment several times over; the camera overlooking the pub car park, for example, fed into the secret monitoring channels of no fewer than nine organisations.

"There you are," Wesley announced triumphantly. "Told you it would work."

*

With a mournful whistle, the train set off into the night. Sitting at their tables, the passengers watched as the lights of Nameless drifted past.

"Looks like the dinner comes first," Rose said, looking past Sara at the approaching waiter.

"And then the murder," Tegan said.

"How d'you think they'll do that? I mean, it's just the four of us. Is one of us the murderer and another one the victim?"

"There's another couple of tables set for dinner," Sara said. "I spotted them on the way in."

Tegan raised her eyebrows. "I didn't. You're sharp."

"I've been trained to notice things."

The arrival of the waiter with their food caused a momentary distraction. Before starting her meal, Tegan glanced out of the window. The line here was on an embankment, giving a view over mist-wreathed marshland. Pools of water reflected the moonlight. Or was it ice? It had been a warm evening in Nameless, but the weather Outside Continuity had its own whims and caprices. In the distance was an abandoned windmill, its sails skeletal and irregular. She had no recollection of seeing any of these things on previous train journeys.

"One of us could still be the murderer," Liz said.

Startled out of her reverie, Tegan looked up. "How?"

"Depends how they do it. You've played Cluedo, I take it?"

"Once or twice. It's a Christmas thing, isn't it? You get the relatives round, and you all end up playing a board game."

"Oh, don't get me started," Rose broke in. "Mum tried to get the Doctor to play it once. You know, just after he'd regenerated."

"Who won?"

"Mickey. But the Doctor said it didn't count, 'cos the lead pipe had gone missing and we had to use the iron out of the Monopoly set instead."

"Anyway," Liz said. "My point is that in Cluedo you can be playing the murderer and not know it. It all depends how the cards are dealt."

Her point apparently proved to her satisfaction, she turned her attention back to her slice of melon.

"And the next year," Rose said, more to herself than any of the others, "I was in another world and all the rules were different. And nearly all the people as well. I mean, there isn't a Miss Grey in any version of Cluedo I've ever played."

Sara suddenly put down her spoon.

"Look out there," she said.

The mist outside had thickened; instead of a few wisps over the marsh, it was now a network of streamers, glowing with multicoloured light, and surrounding the train. Nothing could now be seen of the countryside beyond, only the coloured ribbons of cloud. As they swirled to and fro, it gave the dizzying impression that the train was moving backwards, or upwards, or sideways.

"It's a PLOT hole," Rose said.

"We must be headed Inside," Liz said. "Inside _where_ , I wouldn't like to speculate. Almost certainly not our normal universe. You know what that means?"

Tegan nodded.

"This is going to be real," she said. "Get this wrong and we could die."

The iron grip of continuity closed around them. Alternative characterisations melted away like snow. Somewhere else on the train, Nyssa found herself wondering why she was glaring at Adric's throat, and Zoë looked at the banana skin she'd been about to drop on the floor with an air of complete bewilderment.

And the knowledge that this was merely a staged murder mystery evening vanished from everyone's mind.


	2. Chapter 2

As far as Rose, Tegan, Liz and Sara knew, they'd never met before. They were just four travellers, strangers to each other, who'd happened to be travelling by train to London that day, and had ended up sitting at the same table. By the time the main course was served, any initial awkwardness had long since vanished.

"Rose Tyler?" Sara asked. "Anything to do with Tyler's Beverages?"

Rose nodded. "That's my dad. He was visiting one of his bottling plants, and he took me along for the ride. I'm supposed to be learning the business, sort of thing. But he got tied up there for longer than he was expecting, so he sent me back on my own."

"On the Pullman express. Nothing but the best?"

"For Daddy's little girl?" Rose gave her a sharp look. "Look, I can afford first class, so why shouldn't I take it?"

"My apologies. I wasn't trying to insinuate. How do you come to be here, Miss Jovanka?"

"Please, call me Tegan. I'm needed in London as soon as possible. This train was fastest, and the company was prepared to pay."

"You're Australian, aren't you?" Rose asked.

Tegan exaggerated her Brisbane accent slightly. "What gave me away? Is it the hair?"

Rose laughed. "Sorry. Stupid question. But do you travel a lot?"

"I go wherever Blue Diamond Cruises send me." She sipped her wine. "I'm no-one important. Just a waitress. It feels a bit weird to have all these chefs and stewards fussing over me instead of ordering me about."

Sara turned to Liz. "And you, Dr Shaw?"

"I do some work for the Home Office, now and again," Liz said coolly. "Always at some time that's convenient for them and not for me."

"What sort of work?"

"In this case? Forensic pathology. I don't think I should discuss it at dinner. You might all lose your appetites." She leaned back in her seat, looking thoughtfully at Sara. "Are you anything to do with the police?"

"I've been all sorts of things," Sara replied. "Why?"

"You seem to want to know all about us. Professional curiosity?"

"If you like."

There was a brief lull in the conversation.

"So what happens in one of these bottling plants of yours?" Tegan asked brightly, turning to Rose.

"How long have you got?" Rose replied, charming her with a smile.

*

About halfway through the meal, a group of four or five people walked past their table, conversing quietly among themselves.

"They must be who the other tables were booked for," Rose muttered, keeping her voice low.

"They're all dressed for it," Tegan agreed. "Did you see those gowns?"

"Must've set them back a few bob," Liz said.

"Yeah, up till now I thought I was the cat's whiskers," Rose said. She rearranged her napkin, to make sure her own silk dress was well protected from accidental splashes, and picked up the wine bottle. "Who wants a refill?"

*

"... And the message came back," Tegan said, waving her coffee cup to emphasise the point, "'This is the Picton Reef lighthouse. Your call.'"

Sara and Liz laughed politely, while Rose dissolved into a fit of apparently genuine giggles.

"Did that really happen to your ship?" Liz asked.

"Well, no," Tegan admitted. "But it could've done."

Rose managed to stop herself laughing. "This is the best evening I've had for ages," she announced. "It beats looking round some drinks bottling plant in Sedgefield. I'm so glad we all happened to catch the same train. Is there any more of that wine?"

"No," Liz said firmly.

With a sigh Rose sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

"If you go to sleep now," Tegan pointed out, "you'll be awake half the night."

Rose opened her eyes again, and yawned again.

"All right," she said. "But I'm bored. Any ideas?"

Sara produced a pack of cards.

"D'you know how to play poker?" she asked.

Rose shook her head.

"I'll teach you." She looked round at the other two. "You can come in as well, if you like."

"As long as we're only playing for farthings," said Tegan, with a smile.

"And you?"

Liz shook her head.

"I'll just read my book," she said, producing a slim volume from her capacious handbag.

*

"Rose," Sara said patiently. "It's no use hiding the cards if you grin at us every time you think you've got a good hand."

"I wasn't grinning!"

"You were too." Tegan said.

Sara shot her a glare. "Did I ask you to jump in? You're just as bad, anyway. You drum your fingers on the table."

Tegan fumbled for a riposte. She had to admit, though, that she couldn't charge Sara with giving information away. Even when supposedly relaxing, Sara was tightly self-controlled and as opaque as a concrete wall.

"I don't have to take this..." Tegan began.

She never got a chance to develop her argument, such as it was, because at that moment the lights went out.


	3. Chapter 3

Tegan had never known it so dark. It was like being at the bottom of a coal mine. Opening or closing her eyes made no difference. There was not a hint of light from outside — no moon, no stars, and no other lights of any kind. She put her hand out and touched the window, just to make sure it was still there. They must be a great distance from any habitation, or perhaps in a tunnel. She found herself wishing for light, any light.

"Has anyone got a light?" Rose's voice asked. She sounded scared half to death.

"I've got matches," Liz said. "Somewhere in my bag— blast!"

"What?"

"I picked up the wrong end. Everything's fallen out. See if you can find them."

The next few minutes were full of confused scufflings. Tegan ducked down under the table, picking up various objects and handing them up to anyone who would take them. Her hand closed around someone's leg.

"Steady on, whoever that is," Liz's voice said drily.

"Sorry." Tegan picked up a leather pouch that smelt of tobacco and handed it up. "No sign of those matches— ow!"

"Ow!" Rose echoed. They must have collided head-on. "Sorry, my fault."

She could be heard backing away. Tegan swept a hand over the carpet, trying to locate the missing matchbox, and only succeeded in hitting some rigid, immobile part of the carriage, perhaps a leg of the table, or of someone's chair.

As suddenly as they'd gone off, the lights snapped on, revealing a scene of chaos: Rose on hands and knees in the aisle, reaching for a tube of lipstick that had rolled away; Sara standing beside the seat opposite, with one hand on the luggage rack to steady herself; Liz sorting through the heap of recovered items; and Tegan's expensively-shod foot protruding from under the table. As the latter scrambled back into her seat, she opened her mouth to express the hope that she hadn't laddered her tights, but never got around to saying anything.

A scream rang through the carriage. Sara's head snapped up; Rose jumped to her feet. Tegan was quick to join them. A little further down the aisle, a man, dressed in a dinner jacket, was lying on his face, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his back. The four other members of his party were on their feet, staring in horror at the scene.

"Don't touch anything!" Sara dashed down the aisle, at the same moment that a uniformed steward entered the carriage heading the other way. She briefly glanced over her shoulder. "Liz, didn't you say you were a doctor?"

"I did." Liz hurried up. A cursory check was all that she needed to do. "He's dead."

One of the other party, a tall, spare man with a moustache and thinning blond hair, coughed. "Then the police had better be called."

"How?" the middle-aged woman beside him asked. "We're on a train! They don't have a telephone."

"Someone could pull the communication cord," Liz suggested.

The man shook his head. "Then we'd stop in the middle of nowhere. The murderer might make a break for it. Best if we wait until we get to London. There'll be police there to sort things out."

"Murderer? Police?" The woman sounded plaintive. "Charles, what are you talking about?"

"Must face facts, Biddy. Dick's lying there with a dagger in his back. That isn't an accident." He turned to the steward. "Better not to move the body. Can you move us?"

"Of course, sir." The steward gestured past where, by now, Sara, Liz, Tegan and Rose were all standing in the aisle. "The first-class compartments are located at the rear of the carriage. If you will proceed in that direction, I can lock this saloon and make sure nothing is disturbed."

"Good thinking, that chap. Come along, Biddy, Maria, Tom."

One by one, the four diners edged past the body, and past the four women in the aisle.

The steward approached the other four. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind..."

"Just a minute," Liz said. "I'd like to examine the deceased in more detail, if you can wait a moment."

She produced a pair of surgical gloves from her handbag, pulled them on, and knelt down by the corpse.

"Rather you than me," Tegan said, averting her gaze from the sight. Blood was starting to trickle out from under the body, staining the expensive, patterned carpet.

"Yeah." Rose sat down, looking distinctly pale under her makeup. "Does anyone mind if I take a breath of... oh, no."

"What?"

"I'm gonna throw up."

"On your feet, soldier!" Sara shouted at her.

Rose jumped to attention, or an approximation thereof, and only then seemed to realise what had happened.

"That's more like it," Sara said more softly. "Now, straighten up, heels together, toes apart. Do you still feel sick?"

Rose swallowed.

"No," she said. "I think I'm over it now. But I could still do with some fresh air."

"Come along, then. This way." And with that, she led Rose away from the body, in the direction the other diners had taken.

Tegan and Liz exchanged glances.

"That was... different," Tegan said.

"Tough love." Liz smiled faintly. "I wonder if she was ever a drill instructor? We'll have to ask her some time. Just don't expect me to do the same if you feel woozy."

"Nonsense. Australians don't have finer feelings, do we?"

"You could have fooled me. Well, I think we're about done here... Hello, what's that?" She pointed. "Look. There, under that seat."

"What is it, a scabbard?"

"Well, a sheath, anyway. For the dagger. I suppose the murderer must have dropped it."

"I suppose he couldn't have kept it with him. First thing the police'll do is make us turn out our pockets."

"Yes." Liz closed her eyes. "Can you remember whose seat it was?"

"The woman in brown, I think. The one called Biddy."

"Anyway, that's it for now." Liz rose to her feet and pulled off her gloves. "Nothing abstruse about it. Death would have been instantaneous."

"Then let's get out of here."

They let the steward usher them out of the saloon.


	4. Chapter 4

The first-class compartments were even more luxuriously appointed than the saloon where they'd eaten. Elaborate brass chandeliers provided the light, and the walls were dotted with mirrors.

"Now what?" Tegan asked. "Wait till we get to London and the police show up? That could be hours. I can't just sit around that long. I'd go round the twist."

"We need to find out who did it," Sara said. "To clear our own names, if nothing else."

"What d'you mean, our own names?" Rose asked.

"We'll all be suspects. Any one of us could have stabbed that man, whoever he is. We had plenty of time in the dark."

"But we didn't." Rose glanced around. "Well, I didn't. And I'm sure none of you did either."

"Thanks," Tegan said.

"So... I suppose we'll have to find out who really did it. What have we got?"

"Not a lot," Liz said. "He was stabbed. Whoever did it had brought the dagger with them, in a sheath, probably so it didn't damage the lining of their pocket or handbag or wherever they hid it. The lights went out, and whoever it was left their seat, and stabbed Mr... whoever he is."

"That means it's got to be one of the two sitting on the aisle, doesn't it? The ones by the window couldn't have got past."

"Maybe. But everyone was on their feet when the lights came on. Who knows if someone swapped places with someone else?"

"Terrific," Tegan said sourly. "Now what do we do?"

"I suppose we'd better interview the passengers," Rose said. "Tell you what. I'll go and set it up with them. One at a time."

"I suppose it's worth a shot," Liz said.

*

When Rose returned, it was in the company of the blond man, who'd been addressed as 'Charles'.

"Private investigators, eh?" he said, seating himself in a corner seat. "Want to get one over on the police?"

"We want to find out what happened," Sara said. "Our only concern is for the truth."

"Very proper. Well, fire away."

"Your full name, please."

"Colonel Charles Harris."

"Can you tell us what happened, in your own words?"

"Not a lot to say. Lights went out. Got up, tried to find my lighter, but before I could the lights came back on. And there was Dick — well, you saw him."

"Who was he?" Rose asked.

"His name was Richard Gilbert. Old friend. Known him for years."

"What sort of a man was he?"

"Nice enough chap. Well-off, you know. Ran his own business."

"Do you stand to gain anything from his death?" Tegan said. "Sorry, but we've got to ask."

"Not a thing. I daresay his daughter would inherit his money."

"She's the young lady you were with this evening?"

"That's right."

"Could you tell us her name?" Tegan felt stupid for asking, though obviously there was no way she could be expected to know it.

"Maria."

"How did she get on with her father?"

"Well. As far as I know."

"That's two of you," Sara said. "Who are the other two?"

"Bridget is a friend of the family. Bridget James, if you want her full name. Pretty rich. Invested quite a bit in Dick's business, over the years. Everyone's been wondering for years if she was going to end up marrying Dick."

"He's a widower, then?"

"Has been for years. And the young chap's Tommy Sutton. Works in the office. Dick always said he'd got talent, if he'd only apply himself. Done well this last year. I think there was some sort of promotion in the offing."

Liz pulled a notebook out of her handbag, and pushed it across the table.

"Could you show us who was sitting where?" she said. "I've drawn a plan of the coach; perhaps you could write on the seats which people occupied which seats."

"By all means." He briefly wrote on the proffered page. "There you are."

"So, to summarise, we have two close family friends, a loving daughter, and a subordinate who owes his career to Mr Gilbert," Liz said, taking back the notebook. "Of the four of you, which one would you say is most likely to have killed him?"

"Can't believe it was any of us. Really, too impossible for words."

"Did you recognise the dagger?"

"Never seen it before."

"Would you mind turning out your pockets?"

"Happy to." The Colonel delved in his pockets, producing a tobacco pouch, pipe, handkerchief, keys, a railway ticket and a small revolver.

"Do you always carry a gun?" Tegan asked.

"Got into the habit out East. So you see, if I'd wanted Dick dead, I could have shot him any time I liked."

"If you'd shot him on the train this evening, it would have been rather obvious who did it, though," Liz said.

"I take your point. Anyway, I didn't do it."

"You're taking all this very calmly," Rose said. "I mean, he was an old friend, wasn't he?"

"Stiff upper lip and all that."

"Oh, _that_."

There was a momentary pause.

"Well, ladies, if that's all—"

"I think it is," Liz said. She glanced around. "Anyone? Yes, I think you can go now. Perhaps you'd like to ask Mr Sutton to see us next."

The Colonel rose to his feet, bowed, and departed.

"What did you think of him?" Tegan asked, in a low voice.

"He's a soldier," Sara said. "Trained to kill. He could have done it."

"Why would he?"

Sara merely shrugged.

"I dunno," Rose said. "He should've been more upset."

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock at the door, and they were joined by the next suspect. Thomas Sutton was a tall, confident- looking man, with his dark hair cut short. The spectacles he was wearing gave him a studious appearance, but there was nothing of the unworldly academic about him.

"Ladies," he said, sitting down in the indicated corner seat.

There was a momentary confusion each of as his four interrogators each waited for one of the others to say something, and then all tried to speak at once. In the end, Rose won her point, and took Sutton through the routine business of confirming his name and his position as a rising star in the late Richard Gilbert's business.

"I'm pretty much a glorified travelling salesman," he said. "I drive round the country with a car full of electrical goods trying to hawk them to suspicious shopkeepers. Well, not so much, these days. I spend more time in the office sending other people out to do that."

"Colonel Harris said you were in for a promotion," Tegan said.

"Well, it wasn't final, but I'd had the nod from RG that it was in the bag. Quite a step up for me. I don't know if it'll go ahead now that he's— well, you know."

"Can you tell us what happened? I mean, as you saw it?"

"Well, I didn't see anything. The lights went out, and there was a lot of chatter and noise. And then, when the lights came on again, there he was, poor fellow, with a dagger in his back."

"Did you recognise the dagger?" Sara asked.

"I don't think so. It isn't the sort of thing you leave lying around."

"And can we see the contents of your pockets, please?"

In addition to the usual keys and railway ticket, these consisted of a packet of cigarettes, matches, a crumpled bill for laundry, three shillings and sixpence loose change, and the draft of an advertisement for a new electric floor polisher.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I hope," he said.

Liz handed him her notebook, turned to a new page.

"Could you write down where everybody was sitting, please?" she asked.

"Of course." He wrote the names against the seats with a confident hand.

"And, finally, can you tell us who you think is the most likely person to have done it?"

"I can't answer that. It's impossible. To think of your friends, your colleagues as murderers?" He shook his head. "No. It's inexplicable."

"Thank you, then. Perhaps you could ask one of the ladies to look in next?"

"Of course."

He departed.

"If he's doing as well as everyone says he is, he's got brains," Liz said, once they were alone. "It could be him."

"He's got no motive," Tegan said. "He was going to get promoted. Now he might not."

"I expect you'll find that the other two won't have a motive either," Sara said. "When someone gets killed it's amazing how eager people are to show you they don't have a motive."

There was a short silence, in the middle of which their next suspect arrived. Bridget James was a handsome, middle-aged woman, expensively dressed. In one hand she held an ivory cigarette holder, with which she gesticulated as she spoke.

"This is all perfectly frightful," she said. "I do hope that this can be sorted out quickly and quietly."

"We'll be discreet, of course," Sara said. "But there are limits to what we can do. Even if we do find out who killed Mr Gilbert, there'll have to be a trial."

Mrs James closed her eyes at the thought.

"How dreadful," she said. "Terrible. Appalling."

"Can you explain how you all came to be dining together tonight?" Rose asked, before Mrs James could get any further through the thesaurus.

"Why, Richard and Charles and I are all old friends. We're quite a little social circle. I don't know what I shall do for company now. And Richard brought his daughter along, of course. And Tommy Sutton, well, he's getting to be something of a regular at our little gatherings. I do wonder, you know, if Richard is grooming him to take over the business. Was grooming him, I should say."

"Who do you think will take over now?"

"Oh, I haven't the least idea. Richard talks about his work, of course, but I've never seen half the men he mentions. Probably some horrid little foreman with side whiskers and a cigarette in his mouth."

"I believe you've put some money into the business, over the years," Liz said.

"And why shouldn't I? One must speculate in order to accumulate, as they say. And if I should happen to help out an old friend at the same time, what's the matter with that?"

"Nothing that I can see." Liz sat back in her seat.

"The Colonel said everyone was wondering if you were going to marry Mr Gilbert," Tegan said. "Is that true?"

"He never asked me."

"If he had, would you have said yes?"

"That's hardly likely to happen now, is it?" She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. "Did you have any further questions to ask?"

"Do you have any idea who was responsible?" Sara asked.

"Not in the least. I saw nothing. Well, I couldn't have, could I? It was dark."

"Of course. May we examine the contents of your pockets, if you've got any? And your handbag?"

The examination that followed was lengthy, but unproductive. Letters, cosmetics, money, tickets, cigarettes, keys, and similar impedimenta passed under scrutiny, but all were completely mundane. There wasn't even a bottle of pills.

Once she had repacked her bag to her liking, Mrs James was prevailed upon to add a seating plan to Liz's collection, and then took her leave, still gesticulating.

"She could've done it," Rose said, the moment the door had closed behind her.

"What makes you say that?" Sara asked.

"I dunno. It's just a feeling." Rose glanced around, as if mentally casting about for clues. "Perhaps that cigarette holder's really a blowpipe. She shot him with a poison dart and stuck the dagger in afterwards."

Liz raised her eyebrows. "If she was going to stab him anyway, why bother with the poison first?"

"I dunno. Stop him fighting back?"

"And what happened to the dart?"

Rose thought, and shrugged. "Sorry. Forget it."

"You did find the dagger under her seat," Tegan said, addressing Liz.

"That's if it was her seat, of course." Liz consulted her notebook. "She says it wasn't."

"So she says she was in a different seat to divert suspicion away from herself, and then drops the dagger under her new seat to divert suspicion onto herself..." Tegan shook her head. "That's barmy."

Footsteps were heard outside, and the rustle of soft fabrics. They composed themselves for the arrival of the next visitor.

Maria Gilbert was very attractive, and her natural beauty had been enhanced by every means known to man. Her angelic face was surrounded by a halo of exquisitely-styled golden curls, her blue dress amplified the charms of her figure, and she was sporting a tastefully-selected array of jewellery.

"I really don't know what help I can be to you," she said, in a low voice. "I didn't see a thing. It was just like a terrible dream. The lights came on and there was father — dead."

"We're very sorry," Tegan said. "But we've got to ask you some questions so we can try and work out who did it. Do you feel up to that?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Did you recognise the dagger?" Liz asked.

"No. But I only took one look. After that I... I couldn't."

"Of course. Can we check your possessions, just in case?"

This took practically no time. Maria's dainty handbag held only the usual railway ticket, a powder compact, a few tissues and an expensive fountain pen.

"Did your father have any enemies?" Rose asked.

"I suppose he must have done. He was a rich man, after all. But it must have been one of us, mustn't it?" She glanced from one interrogator to the next, her eyes wide and artless. "The Colonel, or Mrs James, or Tom."

"You didn't do it, then?" Liz said.

"Me?"

"Don't worry," Tegan reassured her. "She's only joking. I hope you can forgive her, because in a moment she's going to ask you to write out where everyone was sitting."

This was swiftly accomplished, and Maria took her leave almost immediately.

"And that's that," Sara said. "Is anyone going to tell us why she did it? Tegan?"

"Me?" Tegan sounded offended at the thought.

"We've all made a case out against someone, except you."

Tegan shrugged. "I suppose, if her father was rich, she'd inherit. But I don't see her laying a plot to kill him like that. She doesn't look like the type."

"If murderers all looked like murderers our task would be a lot simpler," Sara said.

"So, you think she told us the truth?" Liz asked, still looking at Tegan.

Tegan gave her a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you something." Liz put her notebook on the table. "I've asked all four of our suspects to draw where they were. And they've given us four different seating plans."

She flipped through the book.

"Look. The Colonel says he was sitting by the aisle, with Mrs James beside him, Thomas Sutton opposite him and Maria Gilbert in the corner. Sutton's exchanged the positions of the Colonel and Mrs James. Maria puts herself by the aisle, with Sutton in the corner seat, and Mrs James says both women were next to the aisle and both men in the corners."

"So three of them are lying," Tegan said.

"Maybe all four, but at least three, yes. Now why would they do that?"

"Covering up for someone," Rose said. "You said the murderer would have to be in an aisle seat, right? So Maria protects her boyfriend by saying she was the one in that seat, and he does the same for her."

"And the same for the Colonel and Mrs James?"

"Yeah, they're old friends."

"No, there's got to be more to it," Sara said. "Because they also disagree about who was sitting opposite them. If Mrs James suspected the Colonel, she might falsify where he was sitting, but why would she lie about Sutton and Maria?"

"She'd say who was sitting opposite her?" Tegan suggested. "And not realise until later that it meant she'd swapped them over?"

"Possibly. Or they're all colluding to make our task harder."

"Are you sure it was one of them?"

"You've got an alternative suggestion?"

"Well, there's that steward. Someone made the lights go out, and I bet he's the only one who knew where the switch is."

"That's a good point." Liz made a note in her book. "It could have been the steward. I certainly think we should ask him about the lights. So, who do we think is the prime suspect at the moment?"

"At the moment?" Sara frowned. "I think it's got to be one of us."


	5. Chapter 5

"One of us?" Rose echoed.

"What would the police find easier to believe?" Sara continued. "That he was killed by his daughter, by an old family friend, by a trusted colleague? Or by a suspicious stranger like me or you?"

"But we didn't even know him," Rose protested.

"They'll only have our word for that."

"And we haven't got any reason to kill him."

Sara laughed bitterly. "Oh, haven't we? Isn't there anything in your life? Some dark secret that you wouldn't want revealed?" She tossed a couple of framed snapshots onto the table. "These fell out of your bag when you dropped it, Dr Shaw, and I picked them up. Perhaps you'd like to say who they are?"

Liz's face settled into an expression of despair.

"There's no point in my telling you lies," she said. "You'd only have to show that picture to anyone at the Ministry of Defence. That's Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. I worked with him a year or two ago. Our relationship was strictly professional — but there were rumours. There always are."

"Grist to a blackmailer's mill," Sara said. "But perhaps he had something even more scandalous to threaten you with."

She indicated the second snapshot: an attractive young woman wearing subfusc.

"That's Jean," Liz said. "My best friend at university. She died very young."

"I'm sorry. But I must ask this: Was she merely a best friend, or something more?"

"Does it matter?" Liz took the pictures back, and put them in her bag. "The fact that I'm carrying her picture would be enough grounds for suspicion. One hint that I'd been— close— to another woman would end my career in an instant. Does anybody mind if I smoke?"

Not waiting for approval, she pulled out her pipe and lit it, keeping her eyes firmly on the flame of the match and away from her colleagues.

"Now we come to Miss Tyler," Sara said, sounding as calm and unmoved as ever.

"Oh, yeah?" Rose looked troubled by the demolition job Sara had done on Liz, but still sounded as confident as ever. "What have you got on me?"

"For the last six months you've been all over the fashionable papers: the glamorous heiress of Peter Tyler, self-made drinks magnate. But before that? You might have come from nowhere. Where did he keep you? Or did he even know you existed?"

Rose opened her mouth, and closed it again.

"Well?"

"Yeah," Rose admitted. "You're right. He didn't know about me until we met by accident. He wasn't married to my mother. He was married to someone else... it's complicated. I was just a shopgirl. He didn't find out who I was until after his first wife died. But he _is_ my dad," she added. "And I love him."

"I'm sure the _News of the World_ would pay well for the details of that story." Sara turned to Tegan. "And what is your shameful secret, Miss Jovanka?"

"Who says I've got one?" Tegan asked.

Sara gave a her brief, one-sided smile. "What did I tell you about drumming your fingers on the table?"

"Oh, rabbits." Tegan looked heavenwards. "There was a passenger on the Melbourne to Southampton run. A girl about my age. She'd lost all her family. She was so lonely. I felt sorry for her." She shrugged. "Staff aren't supposed to fraternize with the paying customers, but I couldn't just leave her all by herself. Then a piece of her jewellery went missing. Everyone decided it was me. It wasn't, I'd never have done anything to hurt her. Her guardian spoke to me. I think he believed me. Somehow it was smoothed over. But if the full story ever came to the Company's ears, I'd be out on the streets." She blinked back tears. "I wasn't allowed to see her, ever again."

Rose put her hand on Tegan's. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." Tegan looked angrily back at Sara. "And what about you?"

Sara was wearing her best poker face. "Me?"

"You don't have any secrets?"

"Earlier on I asked you if you'd had anything to do with the police. I'm positive you did. Perhaps you were married to a policeman, or you had a relative on the force? Somewhere out in the colonies, where law's a rough and ready sort of affair."

"My brother was a policeman," Sara said. "We were in Kenya."

Rose released Tegan's hand, and looked Sara in the eye.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"I shot him. There'd been stories for days of some stranger creeping about, breaking into people's houses. I saw a shadow on the verandah just after dark. I had my gun. I fired. Then when I went to see who it was, I saw... He was supposed to be up-country, but a bridge had been washed out. He was going to see if I had a spare bed for the night." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "The jury at the inquest said I'd made a terrible mistake, nothing more. Maybe they were right. But the last time we met, we'd quarrelled. People talked. I couldn't stay there."

Liz took a drag from her pipe.

"You've made convincing cases against all of us," she said. "But they all rely on Mr Gilbert being a blackmailer. Do we have any evidence that he was?"

"I think we should ask Mrs. James about that. She seems to have made some generous investments in his company over the years."

"Yeah." Rose came suddenly to life. "That was worrying me, earlier. You know, when I said I had this feeling about her? That story about investing money to help out an old friend. I think there's something more there."

"We'd better talk to her again, then," Tegan said. "I'll do the honours."


	6. Chapter 6

"I think it's very haphazard of you," Mrs James said. "Calling me back like this. Am I to spend the rest of the night being dragged from one compartment to another?"

"Sorry," Tegan said, not sounding as if she meant it. "But we do need to go into a bit more detail on some points."

"Well, since you are trying to sort out this atrocious business, I suppose I had better do what I can." She sat down, and delved in her handbag for her gold-plated cigarette lighter. Taking her time, she lit a scented cigarette and placed it in its holder.

"Ready?" Rose asked.

"Yes."

"You said you put money into Mr Gilbert's business. What was that all about?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"My dad runs a business. A big one. And he always says not to get things mixed up — you know, business and friendship? Even when he was starting out, he wouldn't ask for money from his mates. Well, looks like Mr Gilbert didn't think the same way. I was wondering just how much he did tell you before he took your money off you."

"I can't be expected to be bothered with trivial details," Mrs James protested.

"But you could get an accountant to do that for you. Unless Mr Gilbert told you not to. The way I see it, either he was cheating you or you'd got some other reason to give him a lot of money for nothing." Rose leaned forward, her face alive with excitement. "What did he have on you?"

Mrs James made no answer. The colour had drained from her face, her mouth was open, her cigarette holder frozen in mid-air.

"Hello?" Rose waved a hand in front of her face. "Anyone home?"

"How did you know?" Mrs James asked. "He swore he wouldn't tell a soul."

"He didn't." Rose smiled triumphantly. "I guessed. I didn't know I was right until you said that. Look, I don't know what happened between you, and I don't care. But he was blackmailing you, right?"

Mrs James nodded, slowly.

"And all that stuff about maybe marrying him?"

"Just an excuse. To keep me close, but not too close." She set down her cigarette holder. "I'm not sorry he's been killed. I didn't do it, but I knew if I told you the full story you wouldn't believe me."

"I believe you," Liz said, calmly.

"May I go now?"

"I think you should take a minute or two to compose yourself," Sara suggested. "I think there's an empty compartment in the other direction, before you come to the saloon. Perhaps Tegan could see you to it?"

By the time Tegan had led Mrs James away and returned to the compartment, she found the other three already deep in discussions.

"It's bad for us if he was a blackmailer," Liz said. "And if we don't bring the crime home to the real killer. Do you think it _was_ Mrs James?"

"I'd like to," Rose said. "But I dunno. It sounds almost too easy."

"Then let's make some more enquiries. What about the steward?"

"I'll talk to him," Sara said. "We need to find out about that business with the lights, remember?"

"And here's something for the rest of us to think about," Tegan said. "When we were talking to Maria earlier, she called Mr Sutton 'Tom'. I wonder just how well those two knew each other."

"You think they were close?"

"They could have been. What do you think? Is he the sort to get ahead by marrying the boss's daughter?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Rose said.

"I'll leave him to you three, then." Sara rose to her feet. "I'll let him know you want to see him, and then chat to the steward. I don't imagine it'll take too long."

She departed, and was shortly afterwards replaced by Thomas Sutton.

"Can't get enough of me, then?" he said, turning a charming smile on Tegan, Rose and Liz in turn.

"We have a few more questions to ask you," Liz said, keeping her voice carefully cool and neutral. "We've heard that you were present tonight because of your employment in Mr Gilbert's company. How well do you know the other people? The Colonel and the ladies?"

"Oh, we've dined together quite a few times now. I could tell you their taste in books, their political views..."

Tegan leaned forward. "So Maria's just a friend, then? Nothing more?"

"Should there be more?"

"From the way she spoke of you, I didn't get the impression you were just friends."

Sutton laughed, and removed his glasses; without them, he was a very handsome young man.

"Maria can't keep a secret, poor thing," he said. "She's been crazy about me for a long time."

"And what about you?" Liz asked. "She's a very beautiful young woman. Do you reciprocate her feelings?"

"So convenient, isn't it?" He laughed again, apparently without malice. "She's a lovely girl. She's also my employer's daughter. You think I was planning to whisper a few honeyed words in her ear, marry into the family, and save myself a lot of tedious hard work on my way to the boardroom? Of course, I'd have to make a few changes after what happened tonight. Depends who takes over, doesn't it?"

"You haven't answered my question," Liz said patiently.

"I won't deny that I'm fond of Maria. But I couldn't support her on what I earn. Not yet, anyway."

"Changing the subject," Rose said. "Mrs James put money into the company from time to time. Do you know anything about that?"

"Not a thing, sorry. At the time I was just a travelling salesman."

"Yeah, you said. Flogging electrical goods out of a car, wasn't it?"

"Not quite that bad. I was trying to get our products picked up by the trade."

"I know the sort of thing." Rose nodded. "Been on a couple with my dad. How was the company doing? I mean, when Mrs James made her investments."

Sutton lowered his voice. "The tale was that she'd got us out of a nasty hole. Of course, that wasn't official, just gossip among the staff."

"And if we said he'd got the money out of her dishonestly?" Tegan asked.

"Then you'd be saying a lot. Oh, RG was sharp all right, but I'm sure everything was above board. Nothing our learned friends would object to."

Tegan made no answer, bar a noise that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. Sutton put his glasses back on, as if to give the impression that the time for open questioning had passed.

"What do you know about Colonel Harris?" Liz asked. "Is he a rich man?"

Sutton shrugged. "No idea. He doesn't look it."

"Thank you, then. I think that's all." She glanced at Tegan and Rose, but neither seemed inclined to gainsay her. "Will you come with me? I'd like you to wait in the next compartment with Mrs James, if that's convenient."

She escorted Sutton from the compartment, returning a few moments later.

"I suppose we'd better get confirmation from Maria, hadn't we?" Tegan said.

"Yes, I think we better had." Liz sat down and began to scribble in her notebook. "I'm not sure how all this fits together. Suppose she's in love with him but he's just toying with her?"

"That wouldn't explain why he'd kill her dad. More likely it'd be the other way round. Or he'd just sack him."

"Good points."

The door slid open, and Tegan led Maria in, looking beautiful, pale and tense.

"Do sit down," Liz said. "Now, please will you tell us precisely what relationship exists between you and Mr Sutton?"

Maria's face turned a few degrees paler, but she answered quite calmly.

"I love him," she said. "And he loves me, too."

"Is that what he told you?" Rose asked.

"Of course." Maria shot her a glare, as if to condemn Rose for being a cynical pessimist. "And he was speaking the truth. I _know_ it."

"How long have you two been... together?" Tegan asked.

"A year or so. Such a silly thing. I'd looked in on father at his office in the city, and there was Tom, picking up samples of electric irons with the new counter-rotating starch reservoir or some such dreary thing. How anyone can bear to spend all day selling that stuff I can't imagine. It was raining, so Tom offered to drive me home. By the time he dropped me off, we both knew how we felt for each other."

"And is that when he started putting more effort into his work?" Rose asked. "The Colonel said that was a recent thing."

"Yes. Isn't it wonderful? I'm sure he feels he's like a knight in armour, on a quest to rescue his princess, locked away in a lonely tower. He'd need to feel he was worthy, of course. He wouldn't want anyone to be able to say he was just marrying me for my money."

"Did anyone else know?"

"Not a soul, I could swear."

"Would your father have disapproved of the engagement, if he'd known?" Liz asked. "Did he, for example, have other plans for you?"

"I don't see what that's got—" Maria broke off, and put her hand to her mouth. Her face flushed red. "You think Tom killed father, don't you? You think father wouldn't have let us marry, and so Tom killed him! You hateful, evil, witch!"

She jumped to her feet. For a moment it seemed that she was about to try and strike Liz, but instead she burst into tears. Instinctively, Tegan stood and put her arms around Maria, holding her until she recovered her composure. She found herself remembering that other fatherless girl she'd spent so many hours with; but Nyssa had never cried.

Over Maria's shoulder, she gave Liz her severest glare. Liz countered with a how-could-I-know-she-was-going-to-do-that face, but at least took the hint not to speak.

"Look," Rose said reasonably. "This isn't fair to Miss Gilbert, not after what's happened to her today."

Circumspect as her reference to the murder was, it wasn't circumspect enough for Maria, who buried her face in Tegan's shoulder with a renewed wail.

"You two," Tegan said fiercely. "Find something else to do. Now."

"I suppose we could have another talk to the Colonel," Liz suggested, picking up her handbag.

"Yeah. That's what we'll do." Rose hustled her into the corridor, and they walked the half-dozen or so steps to the compartment the Gilbert party had originally occupied, and which now contained only Colonel Harris.

"Ah," he said. "There you are. Wondered if I was going to be called back for another session."

"We've come to see you instead." Rose sat down and leaned towards him. "We was wondering about Mr Gilbert."

"Anything in particular?"

"It's about Mrs James investing money in his business..."

*

"I'm sorry," Maria said shakily, kneading her damp handkerchief in her hands. Her eyes were red, her makeup smeared.

"You don't have to be," Tegan reassured her. She'd managed to get Maria to sit down, and had taken the adjacent seat herself.

"I mean for losing my temper like that. Tegan— may I call you Tegan?"

"Of course." Tegan privately wondered how Maria would react if she knew that she was now on first-name terms with a waitress.

"When you were all asking me questions before... I didn't tell you everything. I just couldn't, not with all of those other women listening. You're different."

"Thanks. But you know whatever you say, I might have to let them know what it was? If it turns out to be a clue, I mean."

"It'll be easier for you." Maria gave her a weak smile.

"Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." Maria swallowed. "Last month, I couldn't sleep, and I went downstairs to get a book I'd been reading. Halfway down the stairs, I heard people talking. One of them was my father, and the other one was Colonel Harris."

"Was that unusual?"

"Normally I'd know if the Colonel was visiting. He'd come and see me. Maybe they thought I was in bed."

"Or maybe not."

"Well, I wonder. If he visited in secret once, maybe there were other times. They were talking about Manchester." She looked at Tegan's puzzled expression. "The business is going to build a new factory there — that isn't a secret. But the way they were talking, that night..."

She thought back. "My father was saying 'Now, now, Charles. You know the terms of the agreement.'

"Then the Colonel said 'As well as you do. But I simply haven't got the sort of influence you credit me with.'

"Father said 'But can't you see how ideal this site is?'

"And the Colonel said 'Of course I can. But I'm one man, Dick, not the whole War Office. You'll just have to pay what they're asking.'

"I didn't hear what Father said next, because he lowered his voice. But the Colonel said 'Publish and be' — well, you know. And then I heard him walking away, and the door slamming."

"Did anything else happen after that?" Tegan asked.

"I don't know. I went back to bed and tried to forget all about it."

"And when did you see the Colonel again?"

"The next week. He looked perfectly normal." She leaned back against the lavishly-upholstered seat. "That was all I had to say. Can I go now?"

"Don't see why not." Tegan wriggled out of her seat. As Maria followed suit, she knocked Liz's notebook off the table; it fell open. Before Tegan could intervene, she'd retrieved the book.

"Oh!" she said.

Tegan looked at the page; it showed Sutton's version of the seating plan.

"Yes, we were wondering about that," she said. "I mean, you've both said you were sitting next to the aisle. Which one of you is telling the truth?"

Maria blushed.

"I shouldn't have tried to deceive you," she said. "Tom was the one by the aisle. But I thought, if I said I was there, you wouldn't suspect him."

"That's very generous of you. Who was really in the other aisle seat?"

"The Colonel."

"Thank you. I'll take you back to your friends now."

She deposited Maria in the same compartment as Sutton and Mrs James. As she emerged, she nearly bumped into Sara, returning from her talk with the steward.

"Where are the others?" Sara asked.

"Talking to the Colonel, I think. I just wanted them out of the way."

"Oh. Why?"

"They made Maria cry."

Sara tutted. "I can't leave you three to do the simplest things on your own, can I? Let's collect them, and then we can all go over what we've learned."


	7. Chapter 7

Tegan stared out of the window, watching the lights of distant villages pass. Closer to the track, a lake gleamed dully under the night sky.

"What did I tell you about motives?" Sara said. "They've all got one. Maria if her father threatened to stop her marrying Sutton."

"She wouldn't," Tegan said, not for the first time.

"Sutton the same, suitably reversed. And it looks as if Gilbert had some hold over the Colonel, and was bleeding Mrs James for her money."

"And of course all us four, same as before," Rose said. "What did you get out of the steward?"

Sara shrugged. "Precious little. He can't explain what happened to the lights and he maintains nobody gave him any bribes."

"Where's the switch for the lights?" Liz asked.

"In the vestibule."

"I'd like to see it."

Sara and Liz disappeared into the corridor, leaving Tegan and Rose on their own.

"We still haven't got anywhere," Rose said gloomily, after they'd spent as long as they could bear alone with their thoughts.

"I know. Got any ideas? I'm out of them."

"Well..."

Tegan looked up. "Come on, out with it."

"We're dealing with a family, aren't we? I'm just thinking about families. And arguments."

"What about arguments?"

"People tell the truth in them, don't they? They come out and tell all sorts of secrets just to make someone else angry."

Tegan nodded slowly. "So we get everyone together and see what they say. Do you think it'll work?"

"No idea." Rose shook her head. "Normally I could get my mum to go off on one, no problem. But I don't know if I could do it if dad was lying there with a dagger in his back and blood spurting everywhere."

"What did you say?" Liz's voice asked sharply.

They looked up. Liz was standing in the doorway, Sara just behind her.

"Well, I just said if it was my dad that was stabbed..."

"Yes, yes." Liz nodded, her eyes bright. "That's an interesting point."

"Rose was just saying we should get everyone together," Tegan said. She raised her voice slightly, since Liz didn't appear to be taking in what she was saying. "See if we can get them to quarrel and give something away."

"Risky," Sara said.

"No, she's right," Liz said, sounding emphatic. "Back where the body is. We need to get everyone together in there."

"But there's a dead body there!" Tegan protested.

"It's essential."

From somewhere under the floor was a groan of brakes, and the carriage shuddered gently.

"We're slowing down," Sara said. "If we've really reached London there isn't much time left."

*

Even in the dining saloon, there wasn't that much room between the tables. Everyone was gathered in an uneasy huddle at the far end from where the body lay, trying not to look at it. The train had slowed considerably, but showed no signs of stopping yet. Outside the windows, the buildings of some nameless town could be seen. Houses and factories drifted past, ghostly in the darkness.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tegan said. Somehow, she felt it was her place to kick things off. There was a scrape of a match somewhere behind her, as Liz lit her pipe. "I'm sorry we've been such a trouble to you this evening, but these are exceptional circumstances. We thought" — she glanced at Rose — "We thought it might be an idea to get everyone together and talk over what we know."

"And what do you know?" Mrs James asked peevishly. "You've been asking us all the most impertinent questions. If you haven't found out anything important I shall be making a complaint."

"Who to?" Rose whispered to Tegan.

Sara cleared her throat.

"For a start," she said, "everybody here could have had a motive for seeing Mr Gilbert dead. In the case of Miss Gilbert and Mr Sutton, the thought was that he might not approve of their secret engagement—"

"Maria!" Mrs James gasped.

"—And as for Colonel Harris and Mrs James, you were both being blackmailed by Mr Gilbert."

"Blackmail?" the Colonel said. "Nonsense."

"But you were," Tegan said. "Maria overheard you talking to Mr Gilbert, late one night. Something about buying land in Manchester."

"No mystery there. Firm's building a new factory."

"Then why meet him in secret? At night? I think he wanted you to pull a few strings in the War Office and get him the land for less than the asking price. And if you didn't, he was prepared to reveal... I don't know what. But something damaging."

"Ridiculous."

Tegan realised she'd run out of things to say, and nudged Rose.

"We know he was blackmailing Mrs James," Rose said. "She told us so. It wasn't her choice to invest all that money in the business."

"Just a minute," Sutton said. "If you're making out that RG was a blackmailer, that puts you four under suspicion too. Any of you could have known him. All that stuff about being private detectives could be a complete lie. One of you could have killed him and then tried to put the blame on one of us." He turned to the other members of his party. "I don't think we should waste any more of our time with these people."

Liz, who'd been quietly smoking, removed her pipe.

"I wouldn't be so hasty if I were you," she said. "You've overlooked the matter of the lights."

"What about the lights?"

"At the time Mr Gilbert was stabbed, the lights had gone out. I have examined the lighting controls, out there in the vestibule. They had been tampered with. A time switch was placed in series with the normal switch, so that at a time convenient to the murderer the lights were shut off. This particular time switch was based on a simple clock mechanism, but several of the components were stamped 'Gilbert Electrical'. In short, it was almost certainly made by someone with regular access to your company's products and workshops."

"That could be any of you," Sara said. "But none of us have ever been near your factories."

"And then Rose made an important point," Liz said. "She talked about blood spurting everywhere. And she's right. From a stab wound like that, I would expect to see some blood spatter."

"No-one's got any blood on their sleeves," Sara said. "I checked."

"Yes, exactly. Suggesting that whoever did it wrapped their hand in something, which they later discarded."

Tegan nodded. "And that means you won't leave fingerprints, either."

"It was after dinner, so no-one had a napkin," Liz continued. "They'd have had to use their handkerchief. Now, we went through everybody's pockets. Three of the four people dining with Mr Gilbert had handkerchiefs; one did not. Mr Sutton, where is your handkerchief?"

Sutton, the blood draining from his face, patted his pocket.

"Must have dropped it," he said.

"I wonder." Liz put her pipe in her mouth, pulled on her surgical gloves, and pushed her hand down the side of the overstuffed aisle seat, between the frame and the cushion. When she straightened up, a square of white linen dangled from her gloved hand, with a number of reddish-brown stains on it.

"Yours, I believe," she said.

"And it's even got his initials on it," Sara added drily.

Sutton's face was shading from white towards green. "Perhaps you've also come up with some fairytale about why I would murder my employer?" he demanded.

"He was buying land in Manchester, to build a factory," Tegan said. "And the Colonel talked about a promotion for you. I reckon he wanted to put you in charge of setting up the factory. Perhaps he told you."

"And why shouldn't he?"

"Oh, no reason. Except that Maria wouldn't be going with you, would she? She'd be staying in London."

"Maybe you were afraid she'd find someone else," Rose added. "Or that her dad would try to marry her off to some rich aristocrat for his money. 'Cos from what I'd have heard, he'd have done that, too. And you couldn't turn the job down, 'cos then you'd have to tell him about you and Maria."

"Tom!" It seemed that Maria had regained the power of speech. "Did you..."

Sutton turned to her, and reached for her hand. "Darling, how can you think such things?"

She snatched her hand away. "Tom. Tell me the truth."

"Then..." He took a deep breath. "Yes, it's true. All of it. I killed your father."

"And I thought you were a gallant knight." Maria collapsed into a chair, her hands over her face.

"Doesn't a knight kill for his lady?" Sutton glanced around. "And I'll do it again, if anyone tries to stop me."

He took a step backward, and pulled the Colonel's pistol out of his pocket.

"You should be more careful what you do with this old relic, Colonel," Sutton continued. "It's careless of you to leave it in your jacket pocket for anyone to steal — but I'm very glad you did." He backed away from the group, covering each in turn with the gun. "If anyone moves, I'll shoot them."

"He's going to jump off the train," Rose said. "Don't do it. You'll break something."

"If the police get me, it'll be my neck. Don't try to stop me."

Someone did move, then. Maria got up and began to walk steadily towards him, pale but resolute, blocking his line of fire.

"Tom, don't you understand?" she asked. Her voice was small but clear; tears were still running down her face. "We can't let you get away, and I know you'd never shoot me. Give me the gun."

She was close enough to touch the pistol, now. She reached out for it.

"There's no way out of this for you," she said.

He gave her one long look.

"I'm sorry," he said. Letting go of the gun, he pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket, put one end in his mouth, bit—

"Stop him!" Sara shouted, surging to her feet.

Sutton collapsed to the ground. His body convulsed once, then went rigid, the eyes staring. Liz hurried over and knelt by the body, but it was obvious that there was nothing to be done.

"Prussic acid," she said. "He's dead."


	8. Chapter 8

When the streamers of light once more swirled around the train and released their grip, Rose, Tegan, Liz and Sara found themselves sitting at their original table. The town outside was no longer nameless, but Nameless.

Rose took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"That was just so weird," she said.

"You're not kidding." Tegan drummed her fingers on the table. "The way we were all different people, but still the same... Liz, was any of that stuff true? About you and the Brigadier, or you and Jean?"

Liz smiled wryly. "I might ask the same about you and Nyssa. I think the mystery had to come up with a shameful secret for each of us, based on our own lives. Something that would have been scandalous in the 1930s. Adultery and unorthodox sexual practices for me, illegitimacy for Rose. Of course, she isn't illegitimate, but that would be the closest it could get to her relationship with her father. Suspicion of theft for you, because that's something your character could easily be accused of."

"And a dubious crush on another girl," Tegan added, with a rueful smile. "I can't _believe_ I said all that stuff about Nyssa. If she ever finds out I'll never live it down."

"And I got homicide," Sara said. "Of course, that one was easy."

There was an awkward silence.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Liz said.

Rose grimaced. "I can't believe you just said that."

"How did you get the suspects to do what you said all evening? Come and be interviewed when we called, and so on? Did you pretend to be a detective?"

"Got it in one." Rose grinned. "Look, here's my card."

She handed over a wallet.

"'Rose Tyler,'" Liz read. "Registered private investigator."

"Psychic paper. Says what I want it to say."

"Yes, so I see. 'Greatest living detective'. 'Solver of over fifty mysteries which baffled the police.' You don't undersell yourself, do you?"

She tossed the wallet to Tegan, who opened it and promptly dropped it as if it was red hot.

"What's the matter?" Rose asked. "Couldn't you see anything? The Doctor said that might happen, in rare cases."

Tegan shook her head.

"Oh no," she said. "It wasn't blank. Definitely not."

She pushed the wallet away from her with her fingertips.

Rose got to her feet, and looked round.

"They've all gone," she said. "Tom, the Colonel, Maria, everyone. Do you think any of it was real?"

"Maria..." Tegan hurried to join her. "You know, I almost hope she wasn't real. Knowing your boyfriend killed your dad because of you... I don't have the words for it."

"Perhaps she wasn't." Rose pointed at the bloodstain, where the body had been. As they watched, it faded, like a dream at sunrise.

"I suppose they can't replace the carpet on each trip," Sara said.

"I dare say the food was real," Liz said. "I'm not feeling suddenly empty or anything."

"But the rest of it?" Rose persisted.

"It felt real while we were doing it." Tegan slowly sat down in the corner-seat that Maria had previously occupied. "I suppose that's the important thing."

*

The lighted platforms of the station drifted into view through the windows. With a groan of brakes and a shudder, the train ground to a halt. Their journey was finally at an end. Tegan, Rose, Sara and Liz walked slowly down the aisle, each in turn taking a last look around the carriage before disembarking. As they stepped down onto the platform, so did the other three groups.

"I hope that blood washes out of my dress," Vicki said, peering at her reflection in the carriage window. "It disappeared off the carpet, why did it have to stay on me?"

"You should not wash out bloodstains. A true warrior bears her enemy's blood with pride," Leela retorted.

Harry and Zoë emerged behind them.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I still don't think I've got it. Why did the lights go out when they did?"

"Oh, Harry!" Zoë sounded as if she'd been saying little else all evening. "It's perfectly simple. The murderer rode on the train the previous week, and he bribed the steward to find out how the lights worked."

"But the steward said he hadn't taken any bribes."

"No, that was the steward tonight. The one he bribed was the one the week before, and it wasn't the same man. It's all quite straightforward..."

*

"Wasn't it just brilliant?" Jo asked, rushing up to Tegan. "I was the niece of an impoverished aristocrat who was posing as a princess in order to trap a rich Viscount into marriage. But in the end I realised I was in love with Jamie."

"Really?" Tegan asked.

"Well, not now, obviously." Jo giggled at the thought. "I meant, while we were in the story. He was a soldier and he'd promised to marry someone, but then she thought he was killed in the war and she married another man, and he didn't want her to know he was still alive because she'd be unhappy. It was terribly romantic. Did you have a guilty secret, too?"

"I was a waitress on a cruise liner," Tegan said. "I was accused of stealing from the passengers." That was all anybody needed to know, she decided.

"Oh, poor you! And of course, it was all a red herring in the end, wasn't it? Mind you, it wasn't as bad as Martha. The story was that she poisoned her fiancé for his money."

"No!"

"Cross my heart."

"Mind you, that would explain what happened to Tom Milligan." Tegan looked at Jo's shocked expression. "I'm joking. Honest. And Ace... well, take your pick."

"She was a clerk at the Foreign Office and had an affair with a Russian diplomat."

"Captain Sorin. That'd make sense."

Jo took her by the hand. "Come on. I can't wait to hear what everyone else's dark secret was..."

*

"How did you get on?" Liz asked Peri.

Peri rolled her eyes. "Don't ask. Just don't."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it can. Nyssa was supposed to be Adric's cousin, secretly in love with him—"

"You're right. It can. Stop right there."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. And I was this femme fatale who he was chasing after. What is it about me?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"No." Peri looked down at her low-cut dress. "Tomorrow I'm going to wear a sweatshirt. As big and as baggy as I can find. And slacks."

"Wasn't Barbara any help?"

"She was Adric's overprotective governess. All one big screwed-up family. What about you? You didn't have a guy to be the love interest."

"No, we all ended up as closeted lesbians. Do you want the gory details?"

"I told you all of ours. Fair's fair..."

*

"Enjoy yourself?" Rose asked.

"It was smashing!" Vicki replied. "I nearly got the right murderer three times."

"Weren't there only four suspects?"

"Well, yes, but it was still terrific fun. And we all had really horrible secrets, and they were all based on our real lives. I was a debutante who'd poisoned someone by accident but if it ever came out there'd be the most terrible scandal. And Zoë had had an affair with a famous photographer, and Harry was a doctor who'd made a terrible mistake and killed dozens of his patients, and Leela worked in a bank and had been accused of embezzling thousands of pounds." She spread her hands. "I don't know _how_ whoever it was managed to come up with that one!"

"Weren't you upset? I mean, having your life turned into a clue in some piece of fake Agatha Christie? And then it turned out none of the secrets had anything to do with the real mystery at all?"

"But you've got to have clues, otherwise the mystery doesn't make sense."

"I'm not sure it did anyway." Rose laughed. "And you caught the murderer in the end?"

"Well, Leela did. He tried to take me hostage, but Leela pulled the dagger out of the dead man's body, and, well..." She gestured at the bloodstains on her dress. "It got messy."

"Ours killed himself with poison."

"Well, it's probably slightly different each time, isn't it? Which pudding did you choose?..."

*

The loudspeaker system interrupted the various conversations.

"All points now having been awarded," it said, "The scores were as follows. In fourth place, with seventy-eight points, were carriage four: Adric of Alzarius, Perpugilliam Brown, Nyssa of Traken and Barbara Wright. In third place, with eighty-five points, were carriage three: Zoë Heriot, Vicki Pallister, Leela of the Sevateem and Harry Sullivan. In second place, with eighty-nine points, were carriage one: Tegan Jovanka, Sara Kingdom, Elizabeth Shaw and Rose Tyler. And in first place, with ninety-two points, were carriage two: Josephine Grant, Martha Jones, James McCrimmon and Dorothy McShane. Carriage two are hereby declared the winners; please make your way to the ticket office to collect your champagne prize."

*

"We won! We won!" Jo capered about, waving wildly.

"Congratulations, team." Martha shook Ace's hand, then Jo's, then hugged Jamie.

"That was some serious weirdness going on in there," Ace said. "I mean, Jo and Jamie?"

"I'd be willing to give it a try," Jamie volunteered.

They looked at him.

"You're both very bonny lassies as well," he added, with an unrepentant grin.

"He's incorrigible," Martha said. "Come on, let's get the champagne. At least then he'll have his hands full."

*

"Well, at least we all had a good time," said Harry. "Didn't we?"

"I found the evening stimulating," Leela agreed.

They looked around. Zoë was sitting on a bench, her head in her hands and Vicki's arm round her shoulders.

"I am calm," she was reciting quietly. "I am rational. All is well with the world. I will not let defeat upset me. Even if Jamie is never going to let me forget this."

"I thought you couldn't forget things anyway," Vicki volunteered helpfully.

Zoë briefly looked up. "I'd have had a good try."

*

"So, we came last," Peri said. "It doesn't surprise me."

"No," Nyssa replied. "And we know whose fault that is, don't we?"

From somewhere, Adric found the courage to reply.

"It's nothing to do with me," he said. "I got the right murderer before any of you. If you hadn't been caught up with that silly theory about the waiter..."

"If all three of you had expended half the effort on solving the crime that you had on bickering and glaring at each other, we'd have won easily," said Barbara wearily. "Good night."

She stalked off. Peri stood uncertainly for a few moments, and then did likewise.

"You realise the evening's over now?" Nyssa asked. "There's nothing stopping me killing you."

"And enough methods, too," Adric replied. "Electrocute me, tie me to the tracks, behead me with that butter knife you hid up your sleeve. Why haven't you done it already?"

Nyssa looked him in the eye.

"Haven't we seen enough murder for one night?" she asked.

Adric met her gaze. "Only you can decide that, Nyssa."

"Oh well, when you put it like that..." She whipped out the knife from its hiding place and ran at him, screaming "Die, swamprat!"

Adric turned to run, tripped, and pitched down the subway stairs, breaking his neck and several other bones. Before anyone could get to his body, it vanished in a puff of orange smoke.

"So there," Nyssa said, and set out on her own way home. But she didn't seem particularly happy.

*

"That wasn't bad," Liz said. "Second. We did pretty well, all things considered."

"First would've been nicer," Sara said.

"Well, yes, but look at Jo. She's so happy now. It'd be churlish to want that taken away from her."

"Then call me churlish," Tegan said. "I'd have liked to have won. After a night of stabbings and poisonings and people prying into our innermost secrets a prize might have helped."

"Yours weren't _real_ innermost secrets, though," Rose said. "Were they?"

"That isn't the point," Tegan replied, realising even as she spoke that she could only be convincing Rose that it was. "It was just... it's all going round and round in my head now, and I want it to stop."

Rose shrugged. "Oh, well. Sara and I are going to the Round to plan our strategy. Do you want to come too?"

"What strategy?"

"For finding out who's running these trips and what they're up to. They've got to be up to something, right?"

"It can wait," Tegan said firmly.

"See you next time, then."

"Next time?"

"If there is one. You will be coming, won't you?"

Tegan shook her head. "I won't say it wasn't interesting. But I think once was quite enough for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
>   * Liz smokes a pipe in a couple of the Expanded Universe books and spinoff videos, and I thought it was appropriate for her in-story persona here.  
> 
>   
> 
>   * I hold no brief on whether any character's guilty secret is in any sense true. Except for Sara's, of course, which is about as canon as it gets.
>   
> 



	9. Zoe Cutaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I posted the original story, one reviewer said "I wish we could've seen a bit of Zoe's group". The result: This interlude.

"Well, now, girls," Harry said. "Let's see if we've got anywhere, shall we?"

"Please do not call me a girl," Leela said.

"Sorry, old thing."

"Or 'old thing'. My name is Leela."

"Well, then, um, Leela," Harry blushed slightly. "Have you got a theory of the crime?"

"That it was the act of a traitor. Nobody with the least honour would strike from behind, under cover of darkness. Mark my words."

"Oh. Well, how about you, Miss Pallister?"

"I'm positive it's the Colonel," Vicki said.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Instinct. I just _know_. I'm never wrong about these things."

"You are," Leela told her bluntly. "The Colonel is a man of honour. He would fight his enemy by the light of day, not skulking in the shadows."

"Well!"

"Ladies, ladies." Harry glanced over to where Zoë was fidgeting, a bulging notebook on the table in front of her. "Miss Heriot, do you have any contributions?"

"I've drawn out all the possible permutations," Zoë said brightly. "Now I think we should try to assign some probabilities, based on the other evidence we've collated."

"Sorry, that went straight past me."

"And me," Vicki added.

Zoë shot her a frustrated look. Vicki might have attended a prestigious finishing school, but that didn't seem to translate into anything that she, Zoë, would consider academic achievement.

"It's a simple logic diagram," she said. "All we need to do is look at each combination in turn and see if we can rule it out of consideration."

"Combinations?" Harry laughed. "I don't see how underwear fits into this."

With difficulty, Zoë refrained from bashing her head against the table.


End file.
